Canada's Hero
by Leifal
Summary: America is in a relationship with Britain and everyone knows it. But when America stands up for Canada against Cuba, accidents happen. Rated M for a reason. I don't own Hetalia.
1. Chapter 1

It had happened again. America couldn't have been the only one who was noticing it, could he? Canada arrived at the world meeting with yet another black eye. He had done this before, but just as it was then it was the same now; no one said a word. America couldn't be sure when this had started but once he first noticed it, it began to bother him with a growing intensity. He had to say something, but what?

The meeting came to a close and once again, America said nothing; though he didn't have much of a chance to. Moments after the meeting ended Canada had stepped out of the room and by the time America could slip away from the side conversations, he was already gone.

He sat at home and watched tv as his mind dwelt on Canada's face, unaware of what was going in his surroundings, unaware of Britain calling his name. "America! I'm talking to you, you git!"

"Oh, sorry…" he said, finally snapped out of his daze. Glancing over he realized that Britain was dressed in his police uniform with the mini skirt, and had a grey suit in his hands. "Again?"

"What do you mean 'again'?" Britain said, his face expressing irritation. "We talked about this earlier. Isn't this what you wanted?" America merely gazed back at the tv without a word. "What is it now? You don't want to wear the suit? I know it wasn't part of the original agreement but-"

"That's not it." He was stunned by America's sudden and very strong words. Something was wrong. Gently he rested the suit on the arm of the couch and sat next to his distressed America. Britain leaned in and slowly wrapped his arms around America's shoulders.

"Tell me, what's wrong?"

"It's Canada."

"Canada?" Britain's tone lightened. What could possibly be wrong with Canada?

"So you haven't noticed it either." His voice was laced with disappointment.

"I'm sorry, no." Seeing America like this made his heart sink. He felt as though he had neglected him in a severe manor. "What's wrong with Canada?" he asked with a more sincere tone.

"He had a black eye today."

"Really?" America's shocked and offended face caused Britain to instantly cover his mouth after blurting his reply. This situation was very serious to America and he thought himself an idiot for not speaking more carefully. "I'm sorry. I-"

"It's ok," he said as his face relaxed a little. "I didn't expect that anyone would have noticed. Or that it would really matter to anyone."

"I didn't… mean it like that." Then suddenly something happened that gave Britain the shocked face. America began to laugh. "H-have you gone mad?"

"Hah, sorry I'm just taking this too seriously, aren't I? I'm probably just over reacting, I'm sure he's fine. If he had a problem he would say something wouldn't he? Of course he would." After leaving Britain totally speechless, he picked up the remote, changed the channel to an action movie, and turned the volume up louder. His way of saying he was done talking, only more dramatic: laced with carefree sarcasm, heavy artillery, and a good laugh.

"I suppose that means the police won't be arresting the established business man this evening," Britain muttered to himself as he left the room leaving America to his movie, and the thoughts he was no longer willing to share.

* * *

><p>A few days had passed and the image of Canada still bothered America deeply. He couldn't wait until the next world meeting to say something or he would never rest. Fortunately, Canada lived only a short ways away from him. He would stop by for a visit.<p>

Canada's voice was so timid and meek when he answered the door with a surprised hello. He couldn't imagine why America would stop in so unexpectedly, but he welcomed the company. "I… I was about to go out, b-but you're welcome to come in."

"I'm sorry if I got you at a bad time, it's just… I couldn't wait." Silence fell and the moment felt awkward; Canada stared at the ground as America gazed upwards, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Um… I was just going out to buy some books. Would you like to come with me, maybe get some coffee or something?" Trying to break the ice once more with his offer.

"Sounds good."

After more awkward silence while browsing the book store and walking down the street to what was apparently Canada's favorite coffee shop, America finally got his chance. "So there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"I figured as much, the great America doesn't stop in for no reason at all now does he?" Canada smiled playfully as he took a sip of his coffee and turned another page in his new book.

"It's about your eye."

Canada's mug just inches away from the table, his fingers delicately raised as the page slipped from his grasp, his eyes expressing all the words he was failing to say. He froze, but only for a moment, though to America it felt much longer. This was a feeling he hadn't expected. "You… noticed?"

"Yes, though it would appear I was the only one who did." As he mentioned this he glanced back at Canada's eye to see how it had improved if it had at all. He had used cover up. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you wearing cover up today, when you didn't before at the meeting?"

"Oh, well you see… the people on the streets or the bookstore, they would have noticed."

"And the meeting?"

Canada looked away and laughed softly, "Russia once sat on me for an entire meeting. No one ever notices. Why cover up what no one will see anyways?" As much as America hated to admit it, it was true. Canada was hardly ever noticed at the meetings by anyone. When it came his turn to speak those who were appointed to run the meeting based off of the subject matter often passed him by. And like always, no one knew the difference.

"But I noticed… Not just in the last meeting. I've seen this before. Please tell me what's going on!" America stared a rather embarrassed looking Canada in the eyes and then realized in this moment he had reached across the table and was now holding tight to Canada's hands.

"A-America?"

Quickly he took his hands away and Canada instantly placed his own in his lap. He looked away, blushing, only glancing up every so often to look at America for a few seconds. "S-sorry… Please, Canada what's going on?"

"It's Cuba."

"Cuba? But I thought you two were on good standings?"

"We are. It's just…he doesn't really like you."

"Well I could have told you that," he laughed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"He… he keeps mistaking me… for you." It took only moments for the situation to sink in. America's feelings of concern for Canada had changed. They had changed into a feeling he did not have very often. Anger, towards himself.

"This… is my fault."

"No. No, please don't blame yourself. You haven't done anything. It's my-"

"Don't." America shook his head and rested it in his hands. "I… I have to do something."

Canada reached out and gently tugged America's sleeve causing him to look up. With a great smile on his face Canada spoke softly, "You don't. I'm ok." He could see the guilt overwhelming America's eyes. "You've helped me enough already, I feel so much better."

"What did I-"

"You noticed me."


	2. Chapter 2

Another few days had passed and a follow up on the previous world meeting had been called. America never told Britain about his visit with Canada and with how their conversation had gone before regarding the situation, he didn't plan to. He wondered how Canada was doing and was surprised to find that this time, he wore cover up. His eye wasn't completely healed yet, but he wasn't going to let America see him like that again.

America felt satisfied; perhaps he had helped Canada in a way he hadn't imagined. This was a small change, but it made all the difference to him. However, when the meeting ended things didn't stay well. The majority of the countries had other business to attend to and left shortly after. America said a few words to Britain and promised to meet up with him later for their usual banter, but before leaving he wanted to speak to Canada one more time.

He had seen what direction Canada ran off to and tried to catch him before he was gone again; however, when he turned the corner his excitement turned to outrage. Canada was whimpering in the corn, backed against the wall with Cuba towering over him, fist raised.

"CUBA!" America clenched his fists tight and began to shake with rage. "Get away from Canada!"

"What?" Cuba turned, shocked to see America standing behind him when here he thought he was about to exact victory against him once more. Before another word was spoken America had pulled Cuba's arm back and jerked him away from Canada.

"Pick your fights with the right people! You've been hurting you're own friend this entire time because you're too clouded by your unreasonable rage to notice that he isn't me! I'm not going to let you continue to do this to him!" America had now positioned himself in-between Cuba and Canada. "Leave him alone! If you're going to throw a punch then hit me!"

He took him up on the offer, swinging back and going for America's gut; but before he made contact, America had griped Cuba's fist, and twisted his arm back dropping him into submission. Canada stared up, wide eyed at America. Maybe this hero title he had always given himself had a sense of truth to it.

"If you ever think of throwing another punch my way, you better check twice that it's me. If I ever see you hurt Canada again, I won't be as kind as I have been now." He glared down with all the fury of hell in his eyes at Cuba now clutching his injured hand. "Now get out of here before I change my mind."

With that, Cuba turned and ran. "Well then," America said as he turned to face Canada. He reached his hand out to help him up. "I don't believe he will be bothering you again." He smiled warmly and suddenly Canada felt strange, gripping America's hand. His face felt hot, his heart began race, the sound of its beating pounding in his ears; then, dizziness.

"I-I think I'm going to…" Before he could finish speaking, his eyes closed, and he began to drop. Fortunately, America braced his fall.

"Canada?" He gently shook him and laughed lightly as he realized, "He fainted."

* * *

><p>Canada slowly began to open his eyes and hear the faint sound of someone talking. As he looked around he noticed he wasn't at home. What happened?<p>

"Oh, Canada! You're awake. Are you feeling ok?" Canada felt himself blush. He was in America's house.

"Um… I think I'm ok. W-what happened?" He asked as he sat up from the couch, now realizing the talking he heard before was the tv.

"Well, when I went to help you up, you fainted." He laughed and smiled slightly. Canada looked away feeling his heart pick up an extra beat or two.

"I-I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble."

"No trouble, I'm a hero after all. It's what we do."

"Thank you…" Canada wrapped himself in the blanket America had used to cover him as he was sleeping.

"Oh, sorry. Is it cold? Can I get you anything?"

"Coffee?"

"Sure!" America jumped to his feet and rushed out of the room. In his absence Canada took the time to observe the room. At first glance it would appear organized but upon closer inspection he could see there were things piled in places they shouldn't be in attempts to hide how dirty the room had previously been. He figured America had rushed to make it this way for when Canada awoke.

"Here, I uh hope you like it. I don't have much variety in creamer flavors, but um…" Canada gently took the mug from America's hand.

"I'm sure it will be delicious," he smiled.

"Now that you're up, you don't mind if I…" He gestured towards the couch next to Canada.

"Of course, go ahead. It is your house after all." He set his mug on the coffee table in front of them and replaced it with the tv remote. Since Canada was awake now he figured it wouldn't hurt to turn the volume up. He began explaining to Canada what the movie was and what it was about, but the words didn't seem to reach his ears.

He stared into his coffee, imagining how ridicules he must looked, he could still feel the redness in his face. America was his hero, he saved him, even though he was never asked. And here he was sitting next to him, in his house. And suddenly he found himself sneaking a glance here and there at America, who was too involved in this film he had obviously seen too many times before to even notice. Canada never realized how elegant America really was. He never seemed to be formal or noble by any means, but looking now at his relaxed yet focused face, Canada could see his strength, why he was so admired by some and hated by others. There was power behind his eyes.

"Is there something on my face?"

"Wha-!" He turned quickly to divert his gaze. He had stared to long, and been caught. His face now a bright red. "N-no. I w-was just…" He clenched one hand tight to his chest as he gently set his mug on the coffee table. Then suddenly his heart skipped a beat as he felt America's hand on his shoulder.

"Are you doing ok? You look like you might pass out again."

"I-I'm fine," he said as he brushed America's hand off gently and began to stand up. "I think I should go."

"Wait." Canada turned to look at America one more time, who was now standing in attempts to follow him. Then the dizziness hit him again.

"I-I'm…"

"You're falling!" What happened next occurred far too quickly for Canada to gather exactly how they ended up in the situation they were now facing. They were both lying on the floor, America on top of Canada, one coffee mug spilt. They were staring each other in the eyes, Canada's arms pinned down by America's hands.

They stared at each other in silence. America began to blush and in reaction to this Canada's heart beat a little faster, his breathing quickened. He's too close to me, he'll hear my breathing, he thought in a panic. Then something he could not have expected happened.

America leaned in closer, his heart pounding faster, and let his lips fall on Canada's.


	3. Chapter 3

Things were happening fast, too fast. America kissed him, he kissed him back, their lips moved and molded with each other, then opened allowing their tongues to play. The kissing stopped momentarily for them to catch their breath and remove their glasses already half falling off their faces. But when America began gain he didn't kiss Canada's waiting lips. Instead he drifted slightly lower to his neck, inciting a surprisingly pleasant moan.

"Ughnn… Oh, god…" Canada managed to mutter between his increasing panting. "Hnn… w-wait… nngh…"

America stopped after leaving a sizable hickey on Canada's neck. "What?" he mumbled under his breath.

"W-we can't…" America looked him again in the eyes, his face red, hot with passion, and his eyes filled with lust. Slowly he slipped his hand under Canada's shirt and began caressing his chest. "Ahngh… A-Ameri... ahh.."

His hand was now placed below the belt caressing something that was now so sensitive to the touch, sending shivers down Canada's spine. Soon his moaning grew louder and louder, his back arched with the lightest touch and his hips began to move so lightly on their own. "Hhnn… I can't… take aahh!"

America pressed himself against Canada's shaking body, sliding up until his mouth was nibbling at Canada's ears. Softly he whispered, "Beg…"

"Ughnn… Oh, god… please ahh, please…hha.."

"That's better." Gently he lifted Canada's legs and slipped his pants off, freeing his throbbing member.

"P-please, don't stare… it's emb-barrassing." He laid his head back covering his eyes with his arm as America went to work. He started by slowly sliding his tongue from the base to the very tip of Canada's erection. He then preceded to roll the tip inside of his mouth. "Ahh!.. hhnn… P-please… don't p-play with- ahh… m-me." Just as America began to put Canada deeper into his mouth, the phone rang. "Nnngh… A-America, t-the phone."

For a moment it appeared America was going to ignore the call, but when it rang for a second time Canada nudged him with his leg. Slowly he took Canada's member out and ran his sleeve across his mouth. "You're really going to make me answer that?"

"I-if you don't, they'll just keep calling back," he laughed lightly.

"Fine." He walked over and picked up the phone while rubbing his head in attempts to express the inconvenience. "Hello?"

"What the hell happened? You promised to meet me! Why aren't you here?"

"B-Britain!" America was shocked to hear his voice on the other end and the severity of the situation began to kick in. "I-I'm sorry. I was just… I lost track of the time." His voice was beginning to sound heavy. Canada, now realizing what he had done, began slipping his pants back on as a wave of guilt came over him. America was with Britain, everyone knew this, and now Canada had caused them problems, more serious than the problem Britain saw at hand. "I'll be there soon I promise. I'll bring you your favorite desert, your favorite movie, please… Just, forgive me… I-I didn't mean to."

"Fine, I will see you soon. Be here in the next hour. Good-bye." America hung up the phone with a distressed look on his face and turned to see Canada still on the floor, gripping his now clothed legs tight.

"We did something terrible… I've caused you to cheat…" America knelt down and placed a hand on Canada's shoulder. Their faces both expressed great concern.

"It's… ok. You didn't mean to."

"But it doesn't change the fact that it happened…" America sat for a moment with a very concentrated look on his face.

"Canada."

"Yes?"

"Will you do me a favor… Britain, he… he can't find out about this."

"Of course…"

"Promise me."

"I promise."

* * *

><p>"Finally, you're here." Britain sat on the couch with that same grey suit from before, laid out for America. "I'm not dressing up for you, but you will be for me. You owe me."<p>

"I suppose I do," America laughed as he set down the gifts he'd purchased on the way over.

"Well, before we start, you owe me an explanation." He patted the seat next to him on the couch. "Talk."

America nervously sat down, hands shaking. What was he going to say? "W-well, um… Canada came by."

"Canada?"

"Y-yeah, I uh wanted to talk to him… about his eye." America figured this wasn't as bad as lying. He was technically telling the truth, just out of context really.

"I wasn't aware that was still bothering you." It looked like he might actually be buying this.

"Yeah, it was. But now that I've had the chance to talk to him about it I feel much better." He smiled at Britain hoping his nerves wouldn't get the best of him.

"I'm glad to hear that. So everything is going to be ok then?"

"Yeah," he smiled warmly. "I think it will be."

"Great. Now put this suit on," he said as he handed it off to America. "I'll be in the bedroom, don't keep me waiting." As Britain left America to change, he sat on the bed and wondered if there was truth to America's story. It sounded believable enough; however, when the issue first bothered him it was obvious something was wrong. That look on America's face had disappeared a few days ago, why was it that he was only now saying the issue had been resolved? He suspected that perhaps today wasn't the first time the two had met with each other during the week. His thoughts were interrupted as America stepped into the room.

"Do I really have to wear the tie?" he complained.

"Yes, it completes the package. Now pleasure me."


	4. Chapter 4

"B-Britain… ahh… I-it h-hurts… Stop! Ahh!" America could no longer tell how much time had passed since this game first began. Things started off like they usually did, but for some reason when it came time to ready Britain for entrance he wanted to dominate this time. It wasn't entirely unusual for Britain to do this and at first America thought nothing of it, but now… Now it was different. They would have stopped a long time ago. It was starting to feel uncomfortable, it was starting to hurt. But no matter how much he pleaded for Britain to stop, he would not. It seemed as though the car had been started without the drive in the front seat. If this didn't stop soon he felt as though he might pass out from the increasing pain. "Britain… ughnn… P-please!" He begged once again, digging his nails into the other's back. He shut his eyes tight and suddenly the movement stopped.

Slowly he opened his eyes to find a shocked look across Britain's face. "America?" He sat up and stared at his hands, shaking. He had lost control of himself and for what? He felt a mix of emotions overwhelm him. He felt guilty and angry. Angry at America; he knew he was keeping something from him about Canada's visit. Angry at himself, guilty for his actions; he hurt America over an unconfirmed suspicion. "I-I'm sorry… I don't know what came over me." He couldn't bring himself to look America in the face. He didn't want to see what the eyes looking back had to say.

"I've upset you… Haven't I?"

"N-no, that's… not it. I-" He needed to talk to America more about what happened with Canada, but just the thought of what he had already done; to add that he didn't trust him? He needed time to find another way to say this. "I'm going out." He began to slide himself off the bed when he felt himself being pulled back. America had grasped his arm.

"Please, don't go. If something is bothering you we can talk-"

"No!" He shook him off. "N-no… not right now. I have to go." He grabbed his clothes lying on the floor and began to dress.

"Is this because of me… being late?"

He wasn't going to let this go. "I… I don't know."

"I've already explained why… So I-"

"Have you?" Britain looked back at America realizing what he said a bit too late.

"Y-you don't believe me?" The sadness saturated in America's voice was overwhelming.

"I'm leaving now. Don't wait up for me."

America truly loved Britain more than anything. He wanted to keep him happy, he wanted to do whatever he could for him and now he felt like he was losing him. He screwed up, he made some mistakes, but he was only human. He didn't mean to do the things he did with Canada. It was an accident it just… happened. He didn't want to lie to Britain, but he knew if he told him the truth he wouldn't understand and he would lose him for sure. But after what just happened he wasn't sure he had much of a choice. It appeared he didn't believe the story America had told him.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

"America? W-what's up?"

"I need some advice… Can we talk tomorrow?"

"Sure, where do you-"

"I'll come by your place."

"O-oh um, ok. Is everything alright?"

"I… I don't know."

* * *

><p>Britain never came home that night. Though America wasn't too surprised. He was sure he was probably at France's place discussing things he wasn't able to say to America last night. With a deep sigh he raised his hand and rang the doorbell.<p>

"Coming!" he heard from the other side of the door.

"Hey, Canada…"

"Oh, A-America. Come in."

For a while they sat in silence on the couch, drinking some room temperature coffee Canada had prepared far too early for America's arrival. They were going to have to talk about this eventually so America figured he might as well start.

"Britain asked why I was late."

"H-he did?" Canada looked away and began to nervously fidget with his fingers.

"I-I lied… I told him about what happened when we first talked, before I said anything to Cuba. And I thought he believed me… But last night." America stopped to remember Britain's words. "He doesn't believe I've told him the whole truth."

"You're going to tell him?"

"I don't… know."

Silence ensued once more. Canada kept glancing from his glass back to America, clearly distressed. Even with the current circumstances his heart still pined for the strong, independent country. But America clearly regretted his actions; he wanted to make things right with Britain. So all he could do now was try his best to help.

"If you keep lying to him… it will only make it worse if he finds out on his own. You should talk to him… We should talk to him."

America looked up, shocked. "We?"

"I got you into this mess, so I should… help you fix it."

America leaned closer to him, with an earnest look. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this."

"I want to… Do you know where he is? The longer we put this off the worse it will be."

"He's with France, I think."

Canada stood up and reached his hand out towards America. "Then let's go there now."


	5. Chapter 5

A nervous hand reached for the doorbell, but shaking, was unable to ring it. America was afraid of what was about to ensue. He wished that if he just closed his eyes, it would all go away and he would find this was just a terrible nightmare. But upon opening them he saw his hand still lingering near the doorbell.

"America? Are you ok?"

"Y-yeah man, I got this," he said finally pushing his finger down. France answered the door.

"Well hello America, I was expecting to see you at some point today… But not you," he said glancing over America's shoulder to see Canada standing there as well. "Come in."

They came into the living room and sat on the couch as France went into the kitchen to get them all something to drink. America kept nervously fidgeting with his hands. "America, just breathe ok?" Canada said, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I assume you're here to talk to Britain," France said as he placed the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. "However, he's not here. He went home about an hour ago."

"H-he did?"

"Yes, but not before telling me what was on his mind. I think I should hear the other side."

America looked to Canada as if to ask his opinion. "I think he's right America, we can trust him to hear us out."

"I-if you say so…" America proceeded to retell the events that led up to this moment they were at now with Canada interjecting a few comments here and there as France listened silently. "It was… an accident… I never meant to. I would never intentionally…" At those last words Canada clutched his chest and looked away. Perhaps he had always known that America never really felt the way he did. And in all truth, it really was an accident. But to hear him say it like that.

"Canada, would you mind going into the kitchen and making another pot of coffee? It would seem America has ran out and I could actually use some more myself," France said with a smile.

"S-sure."

After Canada left the room France leaned in and spoke in a lower voice. "I sent him away so I could speak to you privately. Have you considered the situation entirely?"

America was a little confused. "What is that supposed to mean? I told you what happened and I want to fix this. Doesn't that mean I have?"

"You've considered your own feelings partially and perhaps Britain's a little, but what about Canada's?"

"Canada's feelings?" America had thought them to be the same as his own; regret and remorse, but now that attention was brought to it he realized he really knew nothing about how Canada felt. He had just agreed with whatever America said, went along with whatever America wanted to do, but was that really how he felt? Then something else caught his attention. "What do you mean I've only partially considered my own?"

"I think you might be lying to yourself."

"You're not making any sense anymore man." Maybe talking to France wasn't the best idea after all.

"How do you feel about Canada?" It didn't look like France was going to let up. He seemed very serious about this.

"I-I don't know. Why are you asking me this?"

"Because you haven't considered it. Why would you do the things you did, accident or not, if you didn't feel something for Canada in one way or another? If you found yourself in a similar situation with me, I know things would have transpired differently. I wouldn't be so hasty as to spill your guts to Britain just yet. I know you don't want to hurt anyone, but it is inevitable at this point."

France was right. America hadn't truly considered everything regarding the situation. And after he did what would happen then? Someone was going to get hurt, if it wasn't Britain, then Canada? He felt more troubled and confused than he ever had.

"Coffee's done!" Canada yelled from the kitchen.

"Just bring the pot in and fill them up, if you would?" France asked. Shortly after, Canada was leaning over the table filling the silence with the sound of coffee pouring. He sat back down next to America and looked at him wondering what the next step was.

"We aren't going to talk to Britain today…"

"W-what? Why not? I thought that's what you wanted." He was confused. What had France and America been talking about while he was gone?

"I just have a few more things I need to think about before I say anything. I need to be sure." He stood up and walked to the door. "I'm going to go home now. I'll talk to you soon Canada."

"America, wai-" France had grabbed his arm, stopping him from going to the door.

"Let him go. You should stay here for a little while longer I have some things I want to discuss with you as well."

* * *

><p>A few days had passed and America hadn't spoken to Britain or Canada. He was still very confused about the situation. The more he thought about it, the less he knew what to do. He really did care about Canada, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like he was the only one who did. When he was truly concerned about his wellbeing, Britain had brushed it off as though he couldn't be bothered with it. He knew that he and Britain had their differences, but was it really enough to separate them? They hardly agreed on anything anymore. And when it came to Canada, Britain treated him the same as everyone else. He was invisible to him, nothing to be concerned about. But Canada was a country too, just like everyone else. So why was America the only one truly treating him like it? Or was he? He picked up the phone and dialed.<p>

"Hello?"

"Canada, it's America. If you have time, I'd like to talk. Do you think you could come by?"

"S-sure, I'll be there soon."


	6. Chapter 6

It didn't take long after Canada's arrival for things to start. America promptly greeted him at the door offered him a seat and something to drink. After serving him some iced tea he got right down to business. "How do you feel about the situation?"

"With you and Britain?"

"No, with us."

"U-us?" He began to fidget nervously.

"Yes, us. All you've done is agree with me and do whatever I tell you to. Why don't you speak up and say what you're really thinking instead of going along without a word?"

"I just want to do what makes you happy…" He looked down at his glass and slowly began to rotate it in his hand, watching as the ripples formed.

"What if… what makes me happy, is your happiness?"

"What?" He was shocked by America's statement. Though he wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean.

"All you've done this entire time was try to keep me happy, but the more you agree with me and follow along the more miserable you seem to become." America slid closer to Canada on the couch and placed a hand on his shoulder. "What is it that you want for yourself? I defended you from Cuba because I didn't want to be the cause of your distress. But it seems now that the situation with Cuba wasn't the only thing bothering you." He looked at Canada with sincerity and concern and placed his last free hand on Canada's leg. "I've only thought about myself in this situation. So, what do you want me to do? What do you want?" Canada's answer meant everything. America didn't think he could make this decision on his own, so he would let Canada choose for him. He knew that Canada had everyone's best intentions at heart. He could trust whatever he decided to do.

"I… I want…" His heart was pounding faster; America's hand was gripping tighter on his thigh. He shook his head, he needed to think clearly. He knew what America was asking of him. Britain, he really did love America didn't he? And the sound in America's voice back then when he realized what they had done… He really did love Britain too, didn't he? "W-we… need to talk to Britain." As the words left his lips he felt his heart ache. He knew this was the right thing to do, no matter how he felt. America's feelings, his friends feelings, they all came first.

"If that's what you want," America said softly, removing his hands and leaning back against the couch. With a heavy sigh he reached for the phone and began to dial when something stopped him. Canada was sniffling. "A-are you… crying?" He set the phone down and brushed Canada's hands away from his face. He was crying.

"I'm f-fine…" Canada was surprised himself. He hadn't realized he was crying until America had asked. Was it really so bad? America would be happy with Britain, that's all that mattered.

"Canada…"

"Y-you need to call him… I'm fine." America didn't believe him, but he could tell Canada wasn't going to budge. He picked up the phone and dialed the number again.

"Hello?"

"Britain, it's me. Can we talk?"

"America? Sure. Where do you want to meet?"

"Could you come by my place?"

"Yes. I'll be there soon."

* * *

><p>Britain seemed overjoyed to see America, but that quickly disappeared when he noticed Canada on the couch. "Why is he here?"<p>

"When I asked if we could talk, I meant all of us."

"America…" He was starting to get a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. He sat in a chair to the left of the couch as America sat next to Canada.

"I haven't really told you everything that happened." America started to explain how the situation he had described before actually took place a few days prior to him arriving late at Britain's house. It was clearly visible that this was making Britain uncomfortable.

When he reached the incident with Cuba, Canada really began to fidget. He wanted to leave; he was starting to feel sick. He clutched his stomach and doubled over, but the words kept flowing out of America's mouth. He wanted him to stop. They couldn't do this.

"I brought him something to drink and he-"

"No!" Canada blurted out, then covered his mouth in embarrassment. And then before he knew it, he was crying again. The stress was overwhelming him.

"Canada?" Britain seemed very confused by this.

"Canada…" America rested a hand on his back.

"I can't… I can't do this…" He clutched his chest tight. "Please! Forgive me… No, forgive America… It was my fault…" He felt short of breathe, light headed and then, everything blacked out.

When he opened his eyes he found himself in a bed. It wasn't his own. He looked around still a bit disoriented, then realized he was still at America's. What had happened? He heard yelling.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" It was Britain.

"I'm telling you the truth!" America. So it would seem he failed at preventing anything. Perhaps he had made things worse. "Please, it was an accident!"

"Don't touch me!" He felt his heart aching again. He wished he couldn't hear them anymore. He wished for more than just that. He wished that America hadn't cared about his black eye. He wished America hadn't noticed him. Then none of this would have happened. Why couldn't he just be invisible to him like he was to everyone else?

"Britain! Come back!"

"Get away from me!"

"Britain!" He shut his eyes tight and covered his head with the blanket. He pulled his pillow over his head to keep the sounds from his ears.

In the other room America had his hands tightly gripped around Britain's wrists, Britain's back against the wall. "Let me go, you bastard!"

"Britain, please…" He rested his head on Britain's chest and began to sob. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. He was losing him. Everything was falling apart. "Please…"

"Don't cry like that, you fool…"

"I-I love you… Please… Don't go." America gently loosened his grip on Britain's wrists and dropped to his knees. "Please…"

"I'm sorry. I need to be alone right now America. I need time to think…" With that he brushed America's hands off and walked out the door. Leaving America in his emotional mess.


	7. Chapter 7

Canada slowly removed the covers from his head and listened. It had been quiet for quite some time now; only the faint hum of the television could be heard. He made his way into the main room where he found America laying on the couch holding the remote loosely in his hand.

"Hey," he said softly as he kneeled down next to him. "Are you doing ok?" No response. "Come on now, it's not the end of the world… You two will get another chance to talk things through. He just needs time to calm down." Canada was starting to get worried. America wasn't responding to anything he said. "You should probably eat something. How about I make you some pancakes? Does that sound good? Maybe some maple syrup?" With that America gave a slight nod and Canada went off to the kitchen.

They sat next to each other, eating their pancakes and watched tv in silence. Canada finished his sooner than America and the more he watched he began to realize America wasn't eating much at all. He was picking at it, pushing it around. Maybe America needed some time to be alone as well. "I think I'm going to go. Will you be ok?" America nodded once more and reluctantly, Canada went home.

* * *

><p>Two days had passed and Canada hadn't heard a word from America. Had he spoken with Britain yet? Just as the thought passed through his mind the phone began to ring. Could it be him?<p>

"Hello?" He waited for a response and listened. "Of course," he replied. "What time would you like me to meet you?"

"Sorry I'm late. I hope I haven't kept you waiting," Canada said as he sat down at a table outside of a small bistro.

"No trouble. I took the liberty of ordering you a tea, I hope you don't mind." It was Britain sitting across from him.

"Not at all, tea is fine." They continued with small talk here and there until the tea arrived. "Is it safe to say you asked me here today to talk about America?"

"Yes. I'm leaving him," Britain said rather calmly.

"W-what?" Hands shaking, he almost dropped his glass. "Please, don't do this because of me…"

"You have to understand Canada; I'm not making this decision solely based off of what happened between you two. There are a number of things and I have taken the time to think this through. It's what is best."

"But… He loves you." Canada was no longer able to look him in the eyes. His heart felt heavy.

"No, America loved me when I was great. He doesn't know how he feels right now. If he was sure in his feelings about me, then you and I would not be sitting here today having this conversation. I have thought this through and I find that I… am not what he needs right now." The hesitation in his voice brought Canada to look at him once more. This Britain sitting before him wasn't a man resolved with his decision. This was difficult, but it was what he thought was best.

"Britain…"

"We've grown apart…"

"Have you talked to him yet?"

"No, I thought you deserved to know."

"Why, because of what happened?"

"No, because you love him… in a way I never could." This shocked Canada. What was Britain saying? "I've always tried to control him. Make a proper man out of him. But that has never been him. And I've realized I've never truly accepted that. But you, so innocent, you care about America faults and all. You don't care if he wears a suit, or if he speaks with his mouth full. You love him simply for existing, no matter how he chooses to do so. That's something I can't do. I will forever attempt to change him." He smiled half-heartedly. "I won't keep you any longer. I should get going myself. But thank you for meeting with me to day and listening to what I had to say."

* * *

><p>It was only a few hours after Canada had arrived home that he received another call. This time from America, asking him to come by. It was hard to tell his emotional state on the phone, but Canada wasted no time in traveling yet again. "America?" he said as he threw the door open. He was greeted with a weak smile. "America!" Before he knew it he had thrown himself into America's arms, hugging him tight, and began to sob.<p>

"So you know…" He raised his arms and gently returned the hug.

"I-I'm so s-sorry!" He rubbed his eyes across America's shirt in attempts to stop the tears.

"Hey now, what reason do you have to cry?"

"This is all my fault! If I hadn't… Then things wouldn't have turned out so bad!"

"Bad?" Canada looked up at America in shock. They eyes looking back at him were not hurting, or remorseful. It didn't appear he had been crying either. He had talked to Britain hadn't he?

"W-what about Britain?"

"We talked, a lot. It was good and I think he's right. And France… is right."

"France?" The next thing Canada felt was something he had never expected to experience again. America let his lips fall softly on Canada's. Quickly he pushed himself away. "W-what are you…?"

"France said I was lying to myself, that I wouldn't have done these things with you unless I felt something for you. And after talking to Britain, I know he was right." Canada felt his heart skip a beat. Was he hearing this right? "So I'll ask you again. What do you want?"


End file.
